


Fate

by daughterofvalkyries



Category: Hunger Games (2012) RPF, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Reaping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofvalkyries/pseuds/daughterofvalkyries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The selected tribute makes her way to the stage. Cato´s eyes don´t wander around anymore. Her dark silky waves flow down her back, just the way he likes it. For a moment, he imagines running his fingers through her hair one last time before going to the Capitol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate

On the reaping day, citzens in all districts across Panem gather in their town squares. In each district, two names are selected from two large glass globes. In front of the Hall of Justice and the seal of Panem, the people of the districts wait to hear who will represent them in the Games. It was a day of fear and anxiety in most districts. No parent wants their chilren to be reaped nor does any child want to be selected. The richer districts, however, have a different opinion.  
This is the most awaited day of the year for the teens of district 2. They are born to either kill or be killed and find great joy in it, that is what anyone from the remaining districts and the Capitol would think. It´s not far from reality, they do enjoy this life - the thing is, they were never given other life to choose. This is the day when all citzens wear their best clothes and want to look their best, even if just in the case their name is called out. It would mean a moment of attention, a glimpse of glory and honor - until the pre-selected career volunteers and steals away all the possibilities of a victorious future. That is one reason why there are no bets in the day of the reaping. Everyone already knows who will volunteer and, on the other hand, the bets take place during the pre-selection of the volunteers. It is illegal though, but the Capitol has decided to close its eyes at this crime a very long time ago - children fighting for a chance of being selected into a bloody game where only one of the twenty fours participants can survive; that is the dream of any President, after all.  
A temporary stage was placed right in front of the Hall of Justice, holding a microphone and chairs for local officials and the district´s previous victors. Peacekeepers line the squares, but it´s almost only for symbolism. In a district where the Games are so respected and the life conditions of the citzens are reasonable, there are not many reasons for conflicts or rebellions. Compared to the other districts, Peacekeepers from 2 have an easy life. Of course, that doesn´t mean they are less efficient. After all, this is the district most Peacekeepers come from. Even between the Peacekeepers there is a festive feeling in the air. The excitment only rises as the clock announces the opening of the cerimony.  
Julaine Salman is the escort of district 2 this year and so she has been for the last six years. Just as it is an honor to be selected, it is also a great - and much safer - opportunity to shepherd the tributes through the process of preparing to the Games. It is definitly a much better job than the one the escorts from poorer districts have. It is visible on her face that Juliane is proud of herself for announcing the tributes of district 2 for the seventh year in a row. She even wears her most recent purchases, a fine naivy blue wig adorned wïth pearls and heel aching shoes, with heels high enough to replace an escalator. Julaine´s brand image is her frozen, plastic smile. It would cheer the people in the Capitol and disturb the citzens of the poorer districts, but in district 2, her grin causes anger and frustration. Only someone very stupid or very lucky smiles like that in a district where you can smell blood in certain streets and murder is rarely punished. Not that Julaine, or anyone from the Capitol for that matter, ever wandered through the district to know those and other disturbing details.  
"Welcome, welcome!" she greets, clapping at her own words. The crowd cheers and claps back. If it had been any other day of the year, the lovely escort Julaine Salman would have been the target of all kinds of cruel jokes and comments. As she smiles and begins her speech, she is very aware of how lucky she is that her crowd is an happy day.  
After showing a film that reviews the story of the Hunger Games, Julaine Salman proceeds to pick the names. In district 2, women have to prove themselves in every single aspect and activity. There is no "ladies first" unless the point is to abash the woman in question. Women were seen as property in that district of fighters, something to be owned and used. They didn´t complain though - fight they would, throw nose breaking punches and use their teeth as knives, but never complain - for no princess could ever survive something like the Hunger Games. They were raised to become skilled murderers and fighters, to be strong and fierce. There was no space in their education for politeness nor consideration.  
"Boys first!" she says.  
As Julaine Salman reaches her arm into the glass ball and rummages around, a boy in the crowd stuffs his chest and clenches his fists. This is his day. His year. His chance to prove everyone that if there is someone who can win the Hunger Games, that person his him.  
"Bathasar Duncain!" the escort reads the name on the slip of paper.  
A small, brown haired fourteen year old boy starts to walk through the crowd. In his face there is the surprise caused by the sound of his name coming from the escort´s lips yet the realization of what will happen next seems to soften it. Everyone claps and cheers his name. They have to pretend, at least, to play along the rules. They pretend not be expecting it when the blonde boy, only meters away from where the selected boy was, steps forward and his voice rings above the crowd.  
"I volunteer as tribute!" his expression verges on the savage, as if daring anyone to challenge him.  
There is no need of presentations before the crowd begins to cheer his name. He passes by the selected boy and heads to the stage. Julaine Salman greets him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, seeming to forget that this boy is strong enough to snap her neck in a second. Maybe he would if there weren´t Peacekeepers watching them. She is sure he has done it before, broke bone and tore flesh with his hands. There is no way he is standing in that stage without having done it before. He flashes his usual smirk, so arrogant and full of himself - a promise to everyone who is watching him, a promise of what he is capable of.  
"And what is your name?" she asks him, ever so polite.  
He steps closer to the microphone. "Cato Caldwell." There is something ferocious on the way he speaks, like the warning grunt of an animal before it attacks - he does look like one, with wild blue eyes wandering around the crowd and his fists still curled into balls.  
Julaine Salman proceeds to reach into the glass and snatches a slip of paper from the very bottom. She reads the name to herself once before calling it out. "Clove Heyes!"  
The selected tribute makes her way to the stage. Cato´s eyes don´t wander around anymore. His gaze is upon her slim figure and the white dress that she wears. The dress her mother chose was pure white with lace adornments on the hem and sleeves. It´s hilarious how young and innocent she looks. He controls the urge to burst into laughter and simply shakes his head slightly, shooting her a smirk. She, one of the craziest and most bloodthirty people he had ever know, looking that ethereal was a beautiful irony. Her dark silky waves flow down her back, just the way he likes it. For a moment, he imagines running his fingers through her hair one last time before going to the Capitol. Cato memorizes to tell her to wear that dress on the day he returns as a Victor - her Victor.  
She is smirking all the way to the stage. Her golden freckles glow under the sun light, making her look even younger. She is only 15 at the time, far too young to go into the Games. This is not her year and they both know it. Clove will volunteer when she is 18, just like he did, and be a Victor herself. She may be quite small and thin, but she is fast - even faster than Cato - and she is great with knives. She never misses.  
Everything goes as expected. Before Clove can reach the first step of the stage, Marizi Helms volunteers to take her place. Cato sighs harshly in relief, releasing air he wasn´t aware to be holding in. He watches as Clove returns to her place. He can see her mouth move when Marizi passes by her, but the words she utters only the female volunteer can hear. With a oh so sweet smile, Clove mutters "He will kill you". The girl brushes her words off and steps into the stage, where an eager Julaine Salman greets her with a kiss on the cheek. It is not until two weeks later that those words dance back into her mind, when her district partner pushes her onto the ground and slits her throat with his sword.  
Clove´s hair bounces with her steps, so light and quick. His eyes are on her still, even when the escort tells him to shake hands with his district partner. He shakes the girl´s hand without even looking at her. For now, the only thing in his mind is to win. To do his very best, to let the hard work of the past twelve years pay off and to come back with a crown on his head. That is the last thing Clove tells him before the Peacekeepers escort him out of the Hall of Justice - only moments earlier he had her pressed against the room´s wall, her hands on his hair and his lips dancing along with hers. You will only get out of that damn place with a crown on your head, or I will have to bring you back myself.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a character study, but ended up as a study of both the characters and the place they come from. Instead of being in the point of view of the characters or just in third person, I decided to write this from my point of view - this is the way I imagine district two and its citzens being like. Hopefully, I will write a second part, but it will be as if no one had volunteered for Clove.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this oneshot - let me know if you did, it will make my day.  
> Happy Clato day!


End file.
